Grounds for Inspiration
by meliebot
Summary: A quest for inspiration, a colossal misunderstanding and the reunion of a lifetime. Sometimes fate has a way of intertwining through our lives in ways we could never imagine.
1. Lightbulb Moments

Chapter 1 - Light Bulb Moments

**BELLA.**

"No, no, NO!" I chastised myself for the billionth time in two months, furiously hutting the backspace key on my laptop. Gripping the edge of the desk, I took some deep yoga breaths in an attempt to restrain from visualizing the computer as my personal punching bag.

Once relatively calm, I leant back in my desk chair, propping my sock clad feet on the surface of the table. The white expanse of ceiling above reminded me of the pristine word document glowing on the computer screen, begging to be filled with words – the only problem was that the usual swirling cloud of ideas had decided to take an extended holiday, rather than setting up residence in my mind.

_Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnggg. _

The loud shrill ring of my phone startled me from my murderous inner monologue of loathing towards my imagination – or lack thereof.

Glaring at the offending object, I decided to ignore the distraction and continue racking my brain for a suitable idea.

The phone rang again, like a chainsaw to my patience. Leaning over, I glanced at the screen to see who had decided to pop my bubble of concentration.

_Fine_, I admitted to myself as the phone rang yet again. No Bubble of Concentration had actually been present – in fact, I may have traded an arm, or a leg, or the last of my bottle white wine for that luxury.

Reading the name on the screen, I finally decided to answer in the hope that would be the last of my setbacks for the day.

"Hi Angela," I answered as cheerfully as I could manage.

"Still having writer's block issues?" said Angela, my editor and now good friend, sympathetically. I groaned in response. "Bells, you know I love you, but Marcus has been delightfully reminding me that your deadline is coming up by sending me two or three reminders a day. He was quite literally breathing down my neck when he came to visit me in my office yesterday afternoon."

I shuddered at this mental image of my somewhat slimy editor-in-chief at Clark & Alderson Publishing, feeling a pang of guilt that I had elicited such an experience on my good friend.

"Sorry, Ange," I apologized, running my hand through my four day old hair, suddenly disgusted at my obvious lack of personal hygiene, despite the dire circumstances I found myself in.

Angela cleared her throat. "I _really_ hate to be the bringer of bad news, but Marcus wants to take a look at what you have drafted up to see how it's coming along. I can only delay for so long. I put off ringing you until now, but its getting to the critical stage and I'm trying to avoid another visit."

I shot mental daggers at my egotistical head editor. As much as I would be forever grateful for his role in publishing my first novel - which subsequently skyrocketed to the top of the best seller lists for weeks on end – the man was the source of infuriation countless times a day. I truthfully had no idea how Angela had managed to hold onto her sanity for the years she had been working under him. And now she had become his personal carrier pigeon, interpreting his requests and passing them on as urgent orders.

I laughed humorously. My inspiration levels were zilch and I had first deadline looming over me. I briefly wondered why I had decided to embark on the book path again. The first time around, I had written when the urge hit me – mostly well past midnight when I was meant to be studying for final college exams. Now, deadlines were mapped out despite the fact a plot wasn't. Why was it that dreaded events always seemed to arrive faster than anticipated ones?

My thoughts flashed to my bare cupboards, then to the current state of my hair and my apartment and lastly, to the problem of the irritating flashing black cursor on the pristine page in front of me.

"Angela," I said desperately. "We seriously need an action plan here. This has never happened before – ever. Normally the words just…flow. What's wrong with me?" I rested my forehead on the cool wood of the desk, remembering the events of two years prior. Writing my first novel, _Unsinkable,_ had been like a drug. I was a woman possessed, writing furiously. I chuckled to myself, remembering that my obsession had caused the welcome breakup between Mike, my leech of an ex-boyfriend, and I two years prior…

"Babe, come to bed," Mike had requested groggily the evening I gained my freedom. He had stood in the doorway to the kitchen in a pair of Sesame Street boxers, obviously aroused. I mentally cringed and silently thanked the Lord I had an excuse to avoid _that._ Dodging his less than subtle advances had become an Olympic sport – attempting to break up with him was an even more exhausting endeavor. I had tried twice in the past week to begin _the_ conversation with him, only to give up when Mike had somehow made me feel guilty for wanting to leave him.

"Twenty more minutes, okay?" I told him, not looking up from the glowing screen. A tense silence passed between us, the noise of my fingers furiously tapping the keys echoing around the room.

"Are you ever going to stop writing that chick lit filth, Bella? You and I both know it's a complete waste of time. No sane publishing house is going to choose to print a book written by a twenty-one year old woman fresh from college. Get with the real world, Isabella." He sneered my full name, knowing full well it was something I loathed.

"Get. Out. Mike." I suddenly snapped. "We're done."

It was like something had switched inside me. Suddenly, the old Bella, who didn't fight the way things were and accepted the bare minimum, was gone and a new one had replaced her. One who knew what she wanted, what she was capable of and what she deserved.

Mike had been a product of past hurt and insecurity, I realized as I had sat at the table in the kitchen. A result of him.

"But it's cold…" I swear I saw his bottom lip jut out as she gestured towards the window and the swirling white that lay beyond it, covering the city of Seattle. His voice mimicked that of a three year old and only made me dislike him more.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Apartment." I ordered him. "So help me, if you're not out of here in fifteen minutes I will ring Emmett."

Mike visibly cringed at the mention of my older, burley brother and dashed out of the room.

Call me immature, but I did a little happy dance in my seat once he had left the house.

I finished my first, real novel at three a.m. that morning. The slimy male character was diagnosed with herpes.

Angela's voice knocked me from my recollections. "Bella, maybe you just need a break? It seems you're severely burned out."

I nodded into the phone, sighing, before realizing Angela couldn't see me. "But what about the deadline? Marcus? My contract?"

"I'll get around that. When was the last time you drove down to Forks to see Charlie, Bella?" Angela's mention of my bachelor pad father instantly made me feel guilty as I realized it had been almost six months and I lived just over four hours drive away from him.

"And do you have anything in your house other than bread and Nutella?" She continued. Again, I realized she was completely and utterly right – well apart from the bottle of wine in the fridge, but that too was almost empty.

"I need a holiday," I half said to myself.

"A change of scenery would do wonders, Bella. Fresh air, nature."

If I lived in a Loony Tunes cartoon, a large light bulb would have appeared over my head at that exact moment. I rummaged furiously in my desk drawer, retrieving a crisp document from its envelope.

Grandma Marie was a saint.

* * *

**EDWARD.**

_Bang, bang, BANG!_

I woke to the sound of furious knocking on my front door, immediately wishing who ever it was would give up and go away.

_The sound repeated with more force - BANG, BANG, BANG – _followed by yelling.

"Edward! Open the door!" Shouted a male voice somewhere in the distance.

The assault continued, with a female voice joining in the pleading, and I became afraid they might forcibly knock down my door.

At this realization, I opened my eyes to assess my surroundings. Afternoon light filtered through the cracks in the blinds. Glancing over to my alarm clock, the time confirmed my suspicions. 5.45 p.m. I had slept the day away.

"Darling, please. Just open the door. You missed Tuesday night dinner today. I'm worried about you!" Said a voice, which suddenly registered as my mother Esme's.

Sunday lunch? My mind fought to catch up with the information being fed to me. The last thing I remembered was crashing into bed at 6 a.m. on Saturday morning, emotionally and physically drained.

I had slept for nearly thirty-six hours.

These thoughts brought Friday night's events back to me in a rush that made it hard to breathe. I struggled to draw air into my lungs as I stumbled to the door to let my parents in.

On turning the knob, I was immediately assaulted by a soft enveloping hug and my mother's smell. I felt a hand on my shoulder, guessing it was Carlisle, my father.

"Edward, sweetheart. What happened? Are you alright?" said my mom, reaching up to smooth my hair comfortingly.

As I opened my mouth to tell her, it became too much. Feeling like I was drowning, racking sobs overtook my body as I clung to her desperately.

* * *

**A/N: **So, that was the first chapter of the rewritten Grounds for Inspiration. After a year of (ironic) writer's block, I am back and ready to go.

Thanks for all my old readers who have stuck with me and to all those who have stumbled over this story for the first time! For those who have read the old version of the story, it might be a good idea for you to take the time to re-read the chapters I will be posting so you won't get confused. While some parts are the same, I have completely altered others.

I will be updating weekly, maybe more often depending on how quickly I write.

So, what was your favourite part? Let me know! I think I enjoyed writing the first few paragraphs the most :) Bella's frustration reminded me of my own, haha.


	2. Twist of Fate

Chapter 2 Twist of Fate

**BELLA.**

My heart pounded furiously as I weaved through the morning rush on the busy Seattle sidewalk, attempting not to spill my strong black coffee. Lately, it was my life support, keeping the symptoms of sleep deprivation and high-strung nerves somewhat at bay. Now, it was assisting me in successfully reaching the Clark & Alderson building. I had managed to get no sleep the night before, between to worrying about the significant lack of word count stored on my computer hard drive and the excitement of the salvation plans I had formulated in my head. And now I had the extra pressure of being summoned to a meeting with the head publishing honchos themselves.

At the thought of this, my heart rate accelerated and I forced myself to think of things to come rather than my present situation.

Once again, it seemed that Grandma Marie had stepped into my life offering whatever advice and wisdom she could. When she was alive she had been a mother figure, and in her passing she still gave me the little nudges I needed to steer myself in the right direction. Call me crazy for thinking a dead woman could actively play a part in my life from above, but I knew she was looking down on me from wherever she was.

Until the age of thirteen, Granny Marie had stood as a considerable influence in my life. My most clear memories of her were the times when we had sat in her kitchen as she taught me numerous old world skills my scatterbrained mother Renee didn't have the time for. I still remembered her recipe for Double Chocolate Fudge Cookies by heart and to never put a red shirt in with the whites when doing laundry (something Renee hadn't known until my white blouse had turned a horrible shade of baby pink the morning of second grade school pictures). Marie's otherworldly Victorian home had never ceased to amaze me, sparking my limitless imagination at numerous times throughout my life.

Renee had decided to move away from the small town of Forks to Phoenix when I was six, stating she could feel the green walls closing in on her. Even at six years old, I realized subconsciously that following Renee on her newest adventure would only suffocate her and so chose to stay with my father Charlie, close to my Grandmother.

Her sudden death when I was thirteen had stunned me. I was so used to her presence in my life and I had felt so alone.

The legal matters surrounding her passing held little importance to my young, shattered heart. All I cared about was the fact that one of my best friends was gone and wouldn't be returning. It was my first true experience of death. Which is why I was stunned as I was ushered into a scary looking lawyers office soon after her funeral. My thirteen-year-old self was intimidated as three pairs of eyes followed me as I sat beside Charlie in the room.

"Miss Swan. How are you today?" Said a business-like man from behind his impossibly large mahogany desk. I mentally shouted at him, asking him how the hell he thought I felt, but kept this to myself. He continued, not noticing anything untoward, despite the fact I was fuming inside. "My name is Alec. We have some very important things to discuss, young lady."

I nodded at him, not knowing what was happening.

"Ah, here we are," Alec stated, finding the right document. He began to read aloud, "It is my wish that my granddaughter, Miss Isabella Swan, shall inherit my Forks property and all possessions within, excluding those discussed in paragraph 4 c) above which shall be given to their listed recipients."

Alec skimmed over the paragraph, continuing. "Should Miss Swan be under legal age at the event of my death, the property shall be maintained and held by Mr. Charles Swan of Forks until his daughter reaches the legal age of twenty-one."

At this point, everyone in the room turned to face me. Charlie cleared his throat, turning to me.

"Bella, it seems you are…uh, quite unexpectedly…the owner of Grandma Marie's house."

It was Grandma Marie's will I had uncovered the day before. I hadn't been to the house since moving away for college, choosing to leave the responsibility of maintenance and decisions to Charlie in my absence. Charlie in fact still had the master keys to the property, despite the fact I had become the l official legal owner of the house four years prior. It was here I planned to regain my inspiration – if all went to plan.

My thoughts were suddenly dragged back into the present as I realized I had arrived at the Clark & Alderson building. I had obviously been standing outside for quite a while, judging by the strange look the doorman was giving me as he continued to hold open the heavy doors expectantly. I gave him a small smile as I shuffled past him, embarrassed, as I entered the lobby of the large building and walked to the front desk to grab a visitor's pass.

Angela had called me at seven a.m. that morning with the news Marcus wanted to see me first thing to discuss what he had labeled 'The Meltdown'.

"I'm sorry, Bella!" Apologized Angela as I forced myself to sit up in bed. "I know I said I was going to keep him off your case for a little longer but he used that look of his and it all came blurting out." I felt a pang of sympathy for Angela, knowing the look all too well. "Just one meeting and I promise you'll be free for the foreseeable future. We just have to make him think it's all under control."

"Except for the fact its not all under control," I replied dryly.

Angela snorted. "It's under control. Now get your ass out of bed and down here."

For a moment, Angela's assuredness that I wasn't going to drown in my own frustration made me a little calmer. Just for a moment.

Beeping my way through the turnstiles, I started to make my way to the elevators, nearly reaching my destination before nearly running into the very last person I wanted to see.

Mike _fucking_ Newton.

I look of comprehension spread across his face as he started to approach me from across the foyer. Part of me wanted to wave a copy of my novel at him before using it to slap him across the face. That would show him and his sorry ass just what I was capable of. Sadly, however, I didn't have a copy on hand and taking the cowards way out was proving to be the much easier option.

Quickly surveying my surroundings, I formulated a number of escape plans. Commando rolling towards the nearest potted palm and somehow camouflaging myself in the foliage initially seemed like a brilliant idea, until I remembered I had the agility of a sloth and the coordination of a giraffe. Suddenly, as if the gods had taken some pity on me, the elevator doors opened with a _bing_, laying my escape route before me. With as much coordination as I could manage in my heels, I ran over to the doors, weaving between the exiting individuals before safely depositing myself in the lift.

The doors closed and I sighed in relief, causing a few wary office workers to glance at me. Hitting the button for the sixteenth floor, I tried to regain some sort of composure, willing my flaming cheeks to subside as the tiny metal contraption inched closer to my dreaded destination. After what seemed like an hour, the doors binged open and I stepped out onto the Clark & Alderson floor, not stopping to speak to the receptionist as I made my way through the maze to Angela's office.

"Are you okay?" She asked me when I arrived.

"I'm fine," I muttered.

Angela briefly raised her eyebrows at me before shuffling a few papers. "Now, I was thinking it would be best if I came with you to this meeting. I know how intimidating it can –"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I cried, hugging her.

"Can't. Breathe. Bella," choked Angela. I quickly let go of her, the apology evident in my guilty expression.

"Shit!" She suddenly exclaimed, looking at the time on her computer screen. "We're late."

Angela scurried through the maze with me in tow. In mere seconds we had arrived Marcus' office, much to my dismay.

"Bella, Angela," he quickly greeted us before gesturing towards two heavy leather chairs facing his desk. "Take a seat."

I went to speak but was cut off before I could make a sound, undoubtedly leaving me looking like a stunned goldfish.

"We need to make this quick, Miss. Swan. I have meetings to attend, places to be," he began. "I understand you are having what we like to call Writer's Block, a little meltdown perhaps. In any other circumstance, I would be demanding you snap out of it immediately, but luckily for you, the schedule has been pushed back a bit. My associates and myself came to the conclusion that it would be a better decision to move the publication and distribution to the summer. We had originally thought a Christmas release would take advantage of the gift-buying boom but looking at the publishing schedule, we have a number of best sellers-to-be releasing at that time. So, summer it is!" Marcus tented his fingers excitedly, like a boy in a toyshop. I had the suspicion he was more excited about the money I was going to make Clark & Alderson, rather than the words that would be on the page.

"Picture young and middle aged women, lounging in the sun, eating up your book in one sitting. Just marvelous!" He continued a little dazedly. I briefly wondered if he remembered Angela and I were in the room. However, he quickly turned his attention back on me. "That gives you an extra six or seven months, Miss. Swan. You should be glad you got away with your head, so use it wisely."

Despite his sinister statement, I was doing cartwheels inside. I could hardly contain my excitement and relief at the prospect of an extra half a year to work on my novel. I sighed in relief as Marcus dismissed us and I followed Angela back to her cubicle. I collapsed in her chair in relief, giggling to myself.

Telling Angela I would keep in touch, I said a quick goodbye and excited the stifling building, making a mental list in my head. I had so much to do before I could consider finally relaxing. I had to ring Charlie for one.

I fished my phone from my purse as I rushed to the bus stop, dialing Charlie's number at the Forks Police Station.

"Chief Swan," he answered gruffly.

"Hi Dad, It's Bella," I said.

"Bells?" He replied. I could tell he was surprised to hear from me, especially so early in the morning. "Nothing is wrong, is it? I knew I should have bought you that baseball bat for Christmas last year…"

"No, Dad," I sighed. "Nothing is wrong. Stop worrying. In fact, I have good news. You still have the keys to Grandma Marie's house, don't you?"

"Of course I do. Why?"

"I'm coming to Forks," I smiled to myself as I stepped onto the bus, feeling like a house had just been lifted off my shoulders.

A vacation at Granny Marie's home was going to be the perfect place to regain my inspiration. It had so many memories - surely one of them would begin turning the cogs in my head.

Little did I know exactly what I would unearth while I was there.

* * *

**EDWARD.**

I forced myself to take a few deep breaths, steading my sobs as my mother led me over to the sofa and sat me down.

"Edward," Dad said in his calm doctors' voice, kneeling in front of me. "Son, what is the matter?"

My parents' faces were etched with worry as they looked at me, Mom rubbing small soothing circles on my back.

"Too much," I mumbled. "It's all too much."

Images of the previous night flashed behind my eyes, by body immediately tensing up. I felt Esme stand and begin shuffling around in the kitchen, low muttered words filling the silence.

"Apartment fire…early Saturday morning…emergency ward…chaos," I heard as I picked up a few key words from what my father was saying in the next room, followed by a gasp.

My parents' quiet conversation only intensified the flashes in my head, forcing me to relive scenes from the night as I stared at my hands.

"Move, move, move!" yelled Pete the station chief as the alarm sounded throughout the firehouse. After three years of being part of the Seattle Fire Department, responding to emergencies was second nature. Leaping from my bunk, I quickly raced to the garage, pulling on my overalls as I went. Grabbing my helmet and breathing equipment from the wall, I jumped into the truck as it peeled out of the station, taking in the stats that Eric was calling out to the team.

"WE HAVE BEEN CALLED AS BACKUP TO A HIGH EMERGENCY FIRE IN AN APARTMENT COMPLEX. THE DISTRICT 8 TEAM IS ALREADY AT THE SCENE." Yelled Eric over the siren as he sat at the front of the truck.

I steeled myself for what was to come as we raced to the scene, but in this instance, it seemed no amount of preparation could help me. As we rounded the corner, the apartment complex came into view, flames licking out its windows. A crowd had gathered on the front path, assisting those who had managed to escape. An elderly woman was being hoisted from a third story window. Before the truck had come to a complete stop, I jumped out the door, sprinting towards the front entrance to the building as I put on my helmet and oxygen tank, an axe in hand.

"Shit, Masen!" yelled Demetri through the radio in my helmet. "Don't you dare make me come in their after you to save your ass as well."

Once I was inside the building, everything slowed as I let myself go to my search and rescue training. The sound of my lungs drawing in and exhaling air was familiar, calming my nerves. By instinct, I began searching rooms, kicking open doors as the black smoke pooled around me, obstructing my vision.

"Right behind you, Masen." I heard in my helmet, feeling Eric right behind me.

After searching two apartments, we found an elderly man.

Before I could act, I heard a scream in the distance, my body reacting before my brain registered its meaning.

"You stay here and help this man!" I said to Eric, before rushing out of the room.

"Masen! What the hell are you doing? Wait, dammit! We can't get separated." Eric yelled at me.

"I have to do my job, Eric."

Following the source of the sound, I found myself in a small apartment at the rear of the building.

"Fire Department!" I yelled through the thick smoke, straining to hear the voice again.

"Help!" The female voice was weaker this time, the smoke obstructing her lungs.

Rushing into the bedroom, I found a small figure huddled by the window, gasping for air. Her hand was on her belly – she was pregnant.

"I'm going to get you out of here," I said calmly to the nearly unconscious woman, trying to get her to stay awake. "What is your name?"

"Tanya," she coughed, as I hoisted her up into my arms.

"Everything's going to be okay, Tanya," I told her, rushing out of the room, only to be met by a scorching timber beam falling from the roof. I was going to have to run, before the structure fell apart around me.

Sprinting towards the front of the building, I attempted to shield her from the heat, knowing that without a fire suit the pain would be excruciating.

"Medic!" I yelled once I was outside on the path. "I need a medic here!"

Tanya was unconscious as I placed her on the ground, immediately beginning CPR. Desperation overtook me as I breathed into her mouth, starting chest compressions frantically.

"Come on, Tanya. Come. On. Dammit. You can't die. You CANNOT die. Stay. Stay alive for your baby." I begged her..

I felt strong arms dragging me away from her as I struggled to stay by her side.

"Let me do my job, Masen!" yelled Tyler the medic.

"Edward, time out." Barked Pete as he restrained me. Wiggling out of his grasp, I stood watching Tyler attempt to revive Tanya.

With the structure too damaged to continue searching inside the building, I sat on the grass feeling helpless. Smoke billowed from the complex as jets of water hit the flames. I faintly heard sirens arrive at the scene, watching as Tanya was wheeled towards the ambulance, her body limp and lifeless.

As the scene cleared, Tyler walked over to me. I glanced at him expectantly, only to me met with a sympathetic headshake.

"I'm sorry, man," he said. "She was DOA. I don't know about the baby."

It was over.

I gave him a short nod before struggling over to the fire truck, hoisting myself in for the ride back to the station.

I was startled from my memories as my mother pressed a hot cup of tea into my hands. The sudden urge to run away from this insanity immersed me. To think I hadn't been able to save a mother to be and her baby, who hadn't even seen the world, made me feel sick to my stomach. She wasn't the first person I had lost, but for some reason she felt like the most crucial.

"Edward, you cannot beat yourself up about this," said Mom softly, getting an idea of what had happened. "But Dad and I have come up with an idea, and we think you should seriously consider it."

As I turned the warm mug in my hands, I heard them tell me to take some leave from work - that Pete would be understanding and that I needed to protect myself mentally and emotionally so that I could do my job properly. I nodded weakly at their suggestion, wanting to go somewhere, anywhere, that didn't remind me of the fire.

I wanted to run.

* * *

**A/N: **So, what did you think? What part did you like the most?

I enjoyed writing the snippet of Bella's backstory the most - there will be many more to come in future chapters!

Thank you so much for reading!

Until next time,

Melie.


	3. Free as a Bird

Chapter 3 - Free as a Bird

**EDWARD.**

I found myself half smiling as I wound my Volvo around the snaky road leading to Forks, Washington. My hometown. Despite the green clinging to everything I could see, I felt a strange sense of freedom and relief, something I didn't often feel when growing up in the small town.

Knowing that I was running from my problems didn't eat me alive like I initially thought – I felt a strange sense of hope. The adult part of me realized there was no running from my thoughts, that at some point I would have to drag them out of the vault I had created and deal with them head on. But at the moment the green walls of the Olympic Peninsula and its usual cover of gray cloud cushioned me, creating an escape from the real world.

At my parent's suggestion, I was headed to their holiday home just outside of Forks.

"We love you darling," my mother had said as she pressed the keys into my hand. After their intervention, I had agreed to pick up the house keys first thing the next morning before driving the four hours to my destination.

"Now, go and do what you have to do," she said, giving me a little squeeze. "Be safe."

It was nearing dusk as I entered the town – the town in which I had lived until I moved to Seattle for college at the end of high school. I turned off the main road into a side street, driving to the small Thriftway to pick up a few necessities. I promised myself that I would do a proper shop the next day.

I picked what I needed and headed to the checkout, dumping my items on the counter before fumbling for my wallet. The middle-aged woman gave me a strange look, but didn't say anything. I guessed seeing a new face in Forks must have been as much of a novelty now as it was just under a decade prior.

I then headed out to my car, putting my bags in the trunk before starting the engine and heading the way I had come, attempting to find the small dirt road turnoff to the house. After missing it once, I doubled back, finally turning onto the long and winding driveway lined by huge trees. As I started to wonder whether I was in the wrong place, a large house materialized in front of me, sitting in the middle of a large clearing. The three-story home was magnificently restored. I laughed, putting the pieces of the puzzle together as I remembered Esme had often talked about spending weekends down this way when I was at college. She had been obsessed about this place. A tiny niggle in the back of my mind suggested I was missing something, but I pushed it aside almost as quickly as it appeared.

I sat in my car for a moment, taking it all in as I sighed in relief. This escape was exactly what I needed.

I woke up the next morning feeling incredibly refreshed. As I quickly splashed some water on my face, I noticed a thin layer of stubble on my jaw. I smiled to myself – stubble only meant two things. Either I was too busy to bother with personal hygiene, something that struck me often after an excruciatingly long shift at the firehouse, or it meant that I was in vacation mode. It was definitely the latter, I decided.

I slowly padded downstairs and switched in the TV. Making my way to the kitchen, I yanked open the fridge and pulled out the ingredients I needed to make a full cooked breakfast. This day was starting to look mighty fine.

I inhaled the food, deciding I would go into town that morning to visit the hardware store, Thriftway and bookstore. After all, I was going to need something to occupy myself while I was here and fixing the weathered paint on the back porch was the least I could do to thank my parents for letting me use the house.

The drive into town was peaceful, a sensation I hadn't felt in quite a while. I relished in it. Seeing the familiar buildings in daylight brought back a wave of memories, which tugged at my heart in a strange manner, not knowing how it made me feel.

I grabbed extra groceries and a tin of paint before strolling towards the bookstore. As I paid for my purchase, I couldn't help but notice a paperback with a blue background sitting on the best sellers shelf behind the cashier. What caught my eye next made me gasp audibly, causing the young woman processing my purchase to look up. In silver letters at the base of the cover was the name _Isabella Swan. _I knew, like the rest of the world, that her debut novel had been highly successful. But somehow, seeing it in the bookstore I knew she had frequented for her entire childhood and teen years made me feel a pang of something I couldn't pinpoint.

I imagined the arguments she must have had with her publisher regarding the name on the cover. She had always hated being called Isabella, preferring to simply be called Bella. The thought made me feel the need to laugh hysterically and hyperventilate at the same time. I hadn't thought of Bella in months.

As the cashier handed me my purchase, I almost tore it out of her grasp, sprinting out of the shop, feeling the sudden need for fresh air.

Bella, Bella, Bella, my mind reeled as I quickly walked down the street to where I had parked my Volvo. I needed to get back to the house, away from the town that reminded me of the one I lost.

Rounding the corner, I saw a strangely familiar head of mahogany hair bobbing in the crowd. I ran my hand over my face – hell, now I was seeing things. Was I going crazy? Perhaps events of the fire emergency had hit me in more ways than one…

"Basically half the world is brunette, you idiot," I muttered to myself.

I unlocked the car and hopped into the drivers seat, reminding myself to inhale and exhale at regular intervals. I was panicking.

I needed Jasper – his calming influence always allowed me to come out the other end of our chats with my head relatively in order. As I parked the car in the garage, I pulled out my phone, immediately noticing there were zero bars of reception. Dammit.

Closing the garage door, I noticed treacherous rain clouds advancing over the horizon. It was a sign I knew all too well, bracing myself for the storm.

* * *

**BELLA.**

The green blur sped by me as I carefully drove my small car around the bends. The last thing I wanted to do was get caught speeding by my own father. I laughed to myself, marveling at how my two-door hatchback itched to race around the corners – the old red truck I had driven throughout my junior and senior years of high school would have broken down at the thought.

Only a few months ago, I had sadly given up coaxing it into starting every morning and sent it to truck heaven after a very long and happy life. While I had been embarrassingly distraught at the time, I was extremely grateful now – my truck wouldn't have made it this far without needing to take a breather along the way.

As I turned up the song that was playing on my iPod, the 'Welcome to Forks' sign whoosed past me. Finally, I was home. Despite the ups and downs of my high school years, the cloud-covered town was where I had spent the majority of my life and experienced, what I considered to be, some of the best parts of my life.

I had met my best friend Alice in the lunch line at Forks High only a couple of days into my sophomore year. As I witnessed her pick up an order of the cafeteria special, I had jumped to her rescue, advising her not to eat it under any circumstances – EVER.

We were the complete opposites. She was bright and bubbly, pulling off style and grace with ease. I was more of the quiet type, attempting to stay as inconspicuous as possible – though with my lack of coordination and with Alice at my side, I'm not sure why I bothered. We still had basically the same friendship dynamics at the present, though I considered myself to be less of a hermit – Alice had rubbed off on me.

While, as expected, not all my memories of my teen years in Forks were happy – namely one in particular which shall not be named – it was where I had finally grown into myself. Coming back was a breath of fresh air. Literally.

As I pulled onto the lawn in front of my familiar childhood home, Charlie flung open the front door and walked down to where I had parked.

"Bells!" He greeted me, giving me an awkward side hug as he took the heavy luggage from my hand. "How was, er, your trip?" He asked, looking suddenly embarrassed at his uncharacteristically enthusiastic welcome.

"It was good, Dad. Not one near miss or ticket," I joked, receiving an unamused grunt from Charlie.

As we walked towards the house, I noticed it hadn't changed one bit. In a weird way, this fact completely comforted me. I was still a little uneasy about this whole spontaneous decision, mostly about whether it would actually work, but the positivity of seeing Charlie made it seem a little less daunting.

"I ordered us some pizza for an early dinner," Charlie informed me as we entered the house. "Thought you might be hungry after your trip." He stood in the middle of the kitchen, suitcase still in hand.

"Thanks, Dad," I reached to take my bag from him, not wanting to be standing aimlessly in the kitchen.

"I was thinking you should stay the night," Charlie said, breaking the short silence. I smiled to myself, noticing that even after not living with him for seven years, silences with my Dad weren't awkward. They were simply pauses. We hadn't exactly been a loud bunch – a cop father and his teenage daughter living in Forks. "It would be better to get to the house in daylight. That way you won't have to fumble around in the dark finding things."

I inwardly laughed at his concern, but agreed to the proposal. I hadn't been to the house since just before leaving for college and, while I knew the basic layout, I would still need to become reacquainted with everything. Considering my lack of dexterity, it would most likely be easier once the sun was up. That, and the fact I was sure the water and electricity would have been turned off. Locating the fuse box and figuring out how to get the dammed thing on would be a task in itself, let alone while trying to hold onto a torch.

And in the rain, I added to myself as I heard the beginnings of a downpour on the roof.

"Sure thing. I'll just take this bag to my room and then we can eat when the pizza arrives, okay?" I offered.

"Sure, kiddo," said Charlie as he clobbered over to the old sofa, switching on the TV as I climbed the stairs.

As expected, my room hadn't changed one bit, memories assaulting me as I placed my suitcase on the floor. Turns out running away from your problems never succeeds – at one point or another, they'll catch up with you.

* * *

**A/N: **As always, what did you think? What did you love/hate?

I enjoyed writing the Bella and Charlie scene - I love the dynamic between these two.

As always, thanks for reading!


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